


Desire driving his hands right into your body

by firebrands



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, M/M, hooker!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 02:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20038147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firebrands/pseuds/firebrands
Summary: Tony is a broke ass college student who gets paid for sex.Steve finds out about it.*Here's the hooker x sugar daddy fic set in a college au that no one was asking for!!! i hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!





	Desire driving his hands right into your body

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from Richard Siken's [A Primer for the Small, Weird Loves](https://anotherhand.livejournal.com/40250.html)

There are things he likes: walking across the city letting the sound of traffic and half-heard conversation wash over him and drown out his thoughts, changing his SIM card back to the one with contacts with their real names after a particularly long night, soda that's lost its fizz, and the feel of an old pencil.

Tony doesn't have too many friends. He tells himself it's because he's too much, sometimes, or because he’s not enough, sometimes, too, or a whole list of other things he’s tucked back into his brain, times when he’d gotten too drunk and vomited over everything, so he doesn’t like to drink anymore, anyway and— 

He humiliates himself enough.

He waits by the bus station near the High Line. The sun is low in the sky now, and the creatures of the night are slowly beginning to show their faces. It's beautiful, in a sad, dirty way. 

The metal of the bus stop shed is cool against his forehead, and he checks his phone again.

A car drives by, its windows tinted dark. It looks familiar.

The window rolls down. _Oh god_, Tony thinks, realization dawning over him, fear suddenly gripping him by the throat.

"Tony?"

Tony's mouth is doing this funny thing of not moving.

"What are you doing here?"

Finally, he feels his jaw begin to work. "Steve! What are _you_ doing here?"

For a moment the shock in Steve's face is replaced.

"I—My flat is near here. Do you need a ride home or something?"

"No, no, I,"

A car stops behind Steve's. Tony's phone beeps.

> _Get in._

"I'm sorry," Tony says, pocketing his phone and standing up. "I've got to go."

*******

A text:

> _Meet me high line 5pm_

> _You don't even know how much I cost, _Tony replies.

> _It doesn't matter._

Tony waits. He readjusts his shirt and watches as the other boys step into cars, the same plastered on smile on their faces.

A car stops in front of him.

His phone beeps.

> _Get in._

Tony does, clicking on his seat belt before turning to the man driving to say, "you have an hour."

See, he really needs to fix this thing with his mouth, because now it's hanging open and he looks like more of an idiot than usual.

"Hi." Steve says.

A little dying noise comes out of Tony's throat.

Tony's hand flies to his seat belt, and Steve stops it.

"I can pay, I swear,"

"No, look, I don't want to—"

"Oh but you have to, don't you?"

"_What_?"

Steve smiles at him a little self-consciously.

"I can—I'm a customer?"

"What are you even doing here, what do you need me for? You can get any girl—"

"But I don't want girls." Steve makes coming out of the closet seem so seamless to him.

"Why do you need to come here and buy—" Tony falters, again. He shuts his mouth.

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Why do you need to sell it?"

Whoever’s in the behind them honks their horn.

*******

Steve wasn't lying about his flat being near the bus station.

Tony's not used to this, the way Steve actually brings his things from school into the flat, the way he actually putters around and asks him if he wants a cup of coffee.

"Can we just, you know, _do this_?" Tony asks, standing in the middle of the living room, not knowing what to do with himself.

Steve turns off the stove.

"Sure."

"Is this your first time to—?"

Steve ignores the question and gestures to the sofa.

They sit beside each other quietly.

Tony places his hand on Steve's thigh tentatively.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" Tony asks.

"Well, if that's included in the package."

Tony stops. "Is this a joke to you?"

"Isn't it a joke to you?"

Tony kisses him to stop the questions.

Steve's sitting in front of him, naked, and _god_, Tony thinks, _what am I doing. He's the president of the student fucking council. _

Tony touches him tentatively.

"Would it help if I put a paper bag over my head?" Steve asks, smiling.

_I think it'd help if I put a paper bag over mine_, Tony almost says.

Steve pulls out a cigarette from the pack in the nightstand.

"Do you mind?"

Clients don't ask questions about this. In truth, Tony does. It makes him squeamish—_wasn't I enough to sate you? _

*******

Tony sees him before he heads in to his lecture room. Steve catches his eye and smiles. Tony pretends not to notice.

*******

He hides his "work" sim in the top left drawer for a whole week. What he's earned is enough to keep him going, even if he has to eat refried beans for breakfast, which also serves as his only meal of the day.

After he passes all his papers and finishes his tests he checks his small tin can and counts the coins that litter the bottom. There are no more bills. He feels around the drawer for his sim and slides it neatly into his phone.

> _New Message_

> _(6)_

> 1 - _Tonight. 7PM._

> 2 - _Why aren't you replying. I fucking waited._

> 3 - _I guess it's finals week for you, my little schoolboy._

> 4 - _Tonight, 8._

> 5 - _You'll be needing the money around now, am I right?_

> 6 - _I miss fucking your little ass._

He stares at his phone for a while.

> _How much?_

Then,

> _I'm on my way._

Tony should begin keeping tabs on how many times people have texted him to "get in."

It's ironic, in a sexual kind of way, because, _well_.

*******

"Hello, again."

Tony almost isn't surprised anymore. He breathes in deeply to swallow in the little bubble of anxiety.

"Why are you driving a different car? Did you use another number?"

Steve smiles a bit sheepishly as he drives to his flat.

"I figured that if you knew it was me you wouldn't reply."

Tony acquiesces. He wouldn't have.

*******

An hour has passed and all Steve has done is kiss him.

Just on the mouth.

An hour has passed and neither of them are even remotely naked. Which is sort of nice, because Tony isn't used to it at all.

Tony's phone is on the coffee table, and it beeps.

"Time for your next, is it?" Steve asks.

"No, you're—you're um."

"Paying for this," Steve finishes.

"Yeah."

"Do you want to stay?"

_No,_ Tony says to himself. _No, no, no. No staying. No staying, ever, that is your rule, Tony Stark, do not stay because you are a cheap fuck and cheap fucks do not merit staying over in someone else's ridiculously expensive flat in the middle of New York. You will not stay_.

"No," Tony says, and he hides the disappointment in his voice so well.

"Okay," Steve says, who doesn't.

*******

The man fucking him finds ways to make him feel dirty, used.

Everyone who fucks him finds a way to make him feel dirty, small.

(He’s not worth much, anyway, dirty, stupid, nothing.)

He falls asleep on his couch. He can barely walk to his 10 AM class.

*******

Tony tries his best to feel normal, sitting in a café drinking his coffee before he heads home to switch back to his other life.

Steve slides into the seat in front of him.

"Hello," He says, he's cradling a cup of coffee in his hands. His smile is beatific.

Tony offers him a small little smile. He's not supposed to feel like this about people that pay.

"Do you think—"

"No."

Tony gets up. Steve touches his arm, and _fuck_.

"Please, Steve, please stop. Please."

"Stop what?"

"Stop doing this. Stop being so nice." _Why do you make it so easy to like you? You shouldn't. You shouldn't or else everyone in the world will love you and it's so hard when things are like that_.

"I can't," Steve says, "I can't not be nice."

Tony closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose.

"Then please stop being nice to me."

*******

The man is holding his hips. Tony's this close to screaming.

It's delicious and painful, the man is calling him names and Tony can only think of Steve's face, and, _fuck fuck fuck fuck. _

"Do you like it this?" The man asks between breaths.

His fingers keep slipping. His cock slides, _in, out. _

"Yes, yes," Tony's whimpering now, the man latching on to him by biting him on the shoulder.

*******

> (Unknown Number): _You need to let me help you._

> Me: _How did you get this number?_

> (Unknown Number): _Can we meet? I can pay, if you want. I need to see you._

> (Draft) Me: _No, you don't._

> (Unknown Number): _Tony?_

Steve calls him in the middle of class.

Tony steps out, red faced.

"_What_?" he hisses.

"Meet me at three, at that coffee place."

"Right," Tony says, mostly so he can get back to class. He won’t admit it (not that anyone would ask) but he’s a little worried, too.

*******

"Can we go to my flat? Or somewhere more private?"

"If we leave, you’re paying."

"I thought we already agreed on that."

Tony knows that the only way to win is to stop being so fucking nice, which he always has been. But the bad people always win, and he needs to be one of them if he's going to get anything out of this. Which he wants, but doesn't.

They still end up in Steve’s flat.

Steve makes him a cup of coffee.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks. The mug has a little star on it.

"I should ask you the same question," Tony says. "This is absolutely none of your business."

Steve looks a bit affronted.

"What you're doing—it's not safe."

"Tell me something I don't know." Tony mutters darkly, stirring his coffee.

"I'm trying to help."

"Who said I needed it?" Tony asks, finally at his peak of outrage. "I don't—I don't need you to do anything for me. I don't need anyone to do anything for me."

"What do you need the money for?"

"Why do you even care?"

Steve rests his hand on Tony's knee, the warmth of it reassuring.

"If it's the money—I can help you."

"I don't. Look. Just, stop."

Steve kisses him.

This is territory Tony is much more comfortable in.

Steve's pressing into him slowly, "When was the last time anyone's ever cared for you?"

Tony swallows down a groan. "Don't say that you do."

*******

Steve becomes one of his regulars.

Tony doesn't stop feeling (even more) disgusted with himself.

(But: the way Steve kisses him makes him curl his toes, and he doesn't want to admit it.)

*******

"Move in with me." Steve says to him, blowing out smoke and smiling.

"No," Tony immediately answers.

"Move in with me," Steve says again.

"_No_," Tony says, more forcefully.

"Look, if it helps your feeling of self worth, you can pay for half of the rent. But I want you here."

"Half of the rent of this place is like my tuition fee," Tony turns away from Steve and pulls on his boxers.

"So don't pay. Just move in with me."

"Would you stop?"

"No."

*******

Tony loses customers because he's "not as good as he used to be."

"You're so fucking loose, is my cock finally getting to you?" the man above him sneers.

Tony lets out a loud groan.

*******

The tin is half full of money, and it's not nearly enough to pay for the rent.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Tony asks, getting into Steve's car and crossing his arms over his chest.

"What?"

"For me to lose clients. For me to finally not have enough money. For me to depend on you. It's what you wanted."

Steve's face is caught between a smile and a frown.

*******

He moves in with Steve because he landlord calls him a faggot and tells him that his rent has been overdue for three months.

The tin is empty.

He might as well not even have a 'work' SIM, because the only person that ever even texts is Steve.

(At least, that's what he tells himself.)

*******

Steve kisses down his chest and his mouth stops over the bruises on his hip.

"Who—" he starts, but Tony notices the way he tucks the words back in to his mouth.

Steve still pays. Tony tries not too feel too guilty about it.

*******

"I can get you another job," Steve says, he's standing over Tony, smoking a cigarette.

"Will it pay as much?" Tony asks, for the sake of asking. He continues to scribble notes in his notebook.

"Just about."

"Where?"

"My dad has a business."

"Ah."

"Well?"

Tony doesn't answer.

He's not too good at doing anything else.

*******

"I want you to stop," Steve says, finally, he admits it.

Tony wants to, too.

"Please," Steve says.

*******

Tony's finishing his semester. He has enough to get his own flat.

The tin is full of Steve's money.

"I have enough," Tony says to him over dinner of overcooked paella. It's better than refried beans.

Steve reaches over and kisses him squarely, he tastes like seafood and paprika. They make their way onto the couch, Steve pressing him down gently.

"No," Steve says, removing his shirt.

"What?" Tony asks, hands stopping on Steve's belt.

"I said, no." Steve kisses him again; Tony's toes curl against the fabric. "Don't leave."

"I'm not yours," Tony says, breathing heavy as Steve pulls off his pants.

"But you should be," Steve says. He grins a little before kissing him again.

*******

Tony doesn't move out.

The tin levels up to a bank account.

Steve finds other ways to make his toes curl.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://firebrands.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/firebrandss)!


End file.
